ABCs of Harry Potter - More
by HollyShadow88
Summary: Stemming from an alphabet challenge, where a different character is the focus of his or her own story. A continuation of the original ABCs of Harry Potter on my page. Training with Aunt Bellatrix is about as pleasant as can be expected, but for Draco Malfoy, it's unfortunately necessary.


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**Right on time for dear Draco's birthday (happy 33****rd****, bud!), here's his story! He's kind of…well, basically tortured by his own aunt here, but hey, welcome to life as a Death Eater, right? I feel kind of bad posting this as a celebration of him, seeing as the situation I force him into is kind of sucky, but…well, I suppose we can just blame Jo, right? XD Anyway, this idea came from Draco's HP Wiki page, about the fact that Auntie Bella spent some time in the summer before his sixth year training him up for his lovely little mission to kill Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore (no pressure). It's definitely another one of my favorites. Enjoy, I suppose?**

"_Concentrate_, Draco! There is little point in continuing this mission if you fail at something so trivial! _Legilimens_!"

Once again, the reprimands of his aunt distracted Draco to the point where her assault on his mind met little resistance. A barrage of memories flew through his head – tea with his mother in the garden, playing as a child at Theo Nott's house, attending his family's annual Christmas ball for the first time. All fairly innocent recollections considering, but he cringed in irritation and a touch of shame. Aunt Bella was right; it was useless attempting to learn Occlumancy from her if he couldn't focus on the task. After over an hour of unsuccessful attempts, however, he felt exhausted and more than ready to stop for the day.

Bellatrix released the spell, hissing in anger and frustration. She paced before the lightly glowing fireplace, eyes stormy as she glared at the blonde teenager. He defiantly stared back, refusing to let her see the fear he experienced whenever she grew incensed. If nothing else, this refusal to show his weakness might help in stopping her spell the next time it was flung in his direction. Focusing all of his attention into building a wall about his mind that centered on this fear, he barely heard her next words.

"Pathetic, boy, just like your excuse of a father has become," she seethed, seemingly unaware of Draco's lack of interest. "Our mission _depends_ on the fact that no one be able to enter your mind. _No one_, is that understood? I have no qualm in killing you should you fail, child! What have you to say to that?"

At his lack of an answer, she screeched her frustration and flung the spell at him once more. He held the wall up better than any attempt thus far, but it was still weak and wobbly, unfocused despite his extreme concentration. His scull began to throb painfully as he fought to hold her back, but the magic proved to be stronger. Once more, memories assailed him, all centered around his fears – his father the first and only time Lucius struck him as a child, Granger with her wand pointed at his throat, the Dark Lord as he commanded him to fulfill his duty to uphold the family name, Bellatrix threatening him. As the last dashed across his consciousness, the woman broke the curse off, filling the once silent room with her high pitched squeal of laughter.

"Fear? _That_ is your basis for protection?" She cackled darkly, mirroring the infamous cries of the Muggle fairy tale witches Draco had heard of before. "Fear is weakness, Draco, and weakness will do nothing to stop an intruding mind. _Try. Again_."

He desperately sought another outlet to base his shield on, certain that this theory was the key to succeeding. Why should he want to keep her out? He scanned his memories hurriedly, attempting to find any that he would kill to keep hidden, but she beat him to the attack. As prepared as he was the last time, he was equally unprepared this time around. Predictably, she was gifted with a series of images based on the last thought to cross his mind before the attack – Harry Potter. The first time they met, his distinct and blatant objection of friendship, their midnight duel in the trophy room first year. Bellatrix broke away in disgust, sneering impressively down at the teenager.

"Harry bloody _Potter_," she seethed, her irritation directed away from Draco for once. "The Boy Who Bloody Well Better _Die_. Is that what you wish to hide? _Do better!_"

She furiously flung the spell at him now, barely casting it before tossing it aside, immediately sending it out again. First it was a sequence of almost related images focusing on Hogwarts – his first Quidditch match, that beastly Hippogriff and his attack, finding Quirrell in the Forbidden Forest, Moody transfiguring him into a ferret. Soon, colors and sounds blended together, creating a mass chaos of indistinguishable movement and noise. Draco's head spun, his stomach turning at the rush of confusion thrust upon him by the unmanageable onslaught of images. He vaguely felt himself lower to his knees, his head held gingerly in both of his hands. He was on the verge of losing consciousness when it suddenly stopped, and he vaguely watched the reason for its abrupt end stride into the room.

"Enough!" the deep voice growled, placing his body between the two. "Are you attempting to destroy him, Bellatrix? He is of little use if you drive him completely mad!"

For minutes, she could do little more than heave in deep gasping breaths, attempting to regain control. Shooting the owner of the voice one final fiery glare, she stomped from the room, her tall heels slamming against the carpeted floor. Draco had no intention of doing anything beyond remaining exactly where he was until the uncomfortable sensations ebbed from his bones, but his rescuer had other plans. As the pale, hook nosed visage of the Potions master entered his vision, he managed to release a snort of derision, though it seemed to be a rather meek one.

"Severus," the boy mumbled, clenching his eyes shut as the sound of his own voice sent a spark of pain through his skull. Snape nodded, though his expression remained grim.

"Draco," he replied smoothly, seating himself beside his still kneeling student. "You recognize me. Good. How do you feel?"

"Like I've just been trampled by a dozen thestrals, thanks for asking," he grimaced, lowering his face to rest his forehead against the floor. The carpet was a welcome cushion to the intense throbbing. "What do you want?"

"A simple, _genuine_ sign of gratitude would suffice for the moment."

Draco winced, but quickly relented. "_Thank you, Severus._ Are you pleased now?"

His professor smirked, placing his hand around one of Draco's arms. "I am pleased to see that you appear perfectly like your natural, impertinent self. Come, I believe you would do well with a rather strong headache draught."


End file.
